


Quiet in Dark Places

by OneShotRevolt



Category: Mortal Kombat - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-05-07 14:26:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 19,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14672997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneShotRevolt/pseuds/OneShotRevolt
Summary: Series of small short stories written based on prompts from Tumblr. They are mostly angsty and quiet.





	1. Kuai Liang & Bi-Han: Stay Here Tonight

"I don’t understand. Who were these people?”

“Nobodies. Nobodies who had nothing to do with my mission, and who Sektor had no reason to kill.”

“Then why would h-”

“Because they helped me. I got myself into some difficulty. A family with a young child fed me when I was near exhaustion, hungry, and on the run.”

“I still don’t understand, Bi-Han. What does all this have to do with Sektor? Why would he-”

“Can you think of no reason?”

Kuai frowned. He was sitting on his brother’s bed in his sparse Lin Kuei quarters. He shook his head,

“I don’t know… if they weren’t witnesses who compromised your mission, then I can’t think why he w-”

“Spite.” Bi-Han’s eyes were dark with anger. Kuai shrank from him. “Because I excel where he does not. Because he has no other way of lashing out. Because above all he wishes his father’s praise, but he cannot best me in the field or in the sparring ring.”

Kuai looked up warily,

“You said… a family with a young child…”

“Too young to know not to talk to someone who looks like me. Too young to be afraid or wary. Too young to do anything but throw trust and affection around wantonly.” He leaned back into the shadows and Kuai lost sight of his expression. He knew the body language though.

“I’m sorry, Bi-Han. But… you know this is on Sektor and not-”

“I was in need. I miscalculated. Had I never been in want, I never would have needed their hospitality.”

“It’s not your f-”

“Enough, Kuai Liang! I know where faults lie and I do not need you to tell me.”

Kuai looked up. There was hurt inside that came from not knowing how to help. He bit his lip,

“What can I do? Please let me help. You were always there for me when I was upset. You stayed with me until I fell asleep. Please, what can I do?”

“Nothing. What is done is done. My own imperfections brought this about.”

“Bi-Han… please.”

Bi-Han looked down at his brother. There were bright tears in his eyes that the dark could not hide. His heart softened when he saw that. He looked away, out the window, to where a crescent moon gleamed ethereal on new snowfall. He swallowed and permitted himself to feel a fraction of the grief storming inside him. He nodded and said quietly,

 

“Stay here tonight.”


	2. Kuai Liang & Bi-Han: You’re So Adorable

The courtyard was strung with deep reflections of the Temple above. Black ice turned all to a mirror. When the daytime temperatures sunk as low as this, only the cryomancers remained outdoors.

Kuai kept his guard up, but his thoughts were on his footwork. Ice always worked in his favour, except when he was fighting his brother. Bi-Han did not seem to need to step. His movements were fluid and lithe. The cold seemed to commune with him in a way that Kuai had not quite yet managed to replicate. Bi-Han’s guard wasn’t even up.

“You’re not taking me seriously!” He called to him.

“Give me something to take seriously then!” Bi-Han had a grin that was infuriating.

Kuai fumed internally. His brother could be so smug. Well, what if the ice wasn’t so smooth? Bi-Han would have a hard time moving so seamlessly if there was a minefield of icicles about him. Kuai put his palms together and let an erratic bust of ice shoot forth. He scattered fragments of ice like deadly caltrops before him.

“Ah. Ingenius,” Bi-Han gave, “So that the more clumsy one of us trips up?”

Kuai only scowled back, but internally he was dismayed. There did not seem to be anyway he could get the upper hand. He circled carefully to his right, closing the distance between them. He slid in suddenly, clearing the last few meters and aiming to sweep his brother’s legs out from under him. Bi-Han side-stepped the attack, dropped his body weight into a firmer stance gave Kuai one firm palmstrike to the chest. Kuai flailed, lost his footing on his own icicles scattered on the courtyard behind him, and fell flat onto his back. Bi-Han planted one foot on his chest, keeping him down. He clearly could barely contain his mirth.

“You’re adorable.”

“I am not! I am a warrior, and one day I’ll best you! Let me up!”

“You’re cold. Your nose has gone bright red.”

“I am not cold! A cryomancer doesn’t get cold!”

“He does when he’s only ten. I’ll only let you up if you go inside and find a blanket.”

“Bi-Han?! Stop treating me like a child!”

“Alright. You can be an adult. How long do you want to stay on the floor, two hours? Maybe a little longer? Let’s go for three. A cryomancer doesn’t get cold, right?”

Kuai looked suddenly uncertain, as if he thought for a moment Bi-Han really might not let him up for that long. He mumbled something into his robes. Bi-Han put his hand to his ear,

“What’s that?”

“I said ok, maybe I’ll be a child for now!”

Bi-Han lifted his foot from Kuai’s chest. He reached down, picked him up, and set him on his feet, taking care to make sure he was balanced on the ice before letting go.

“And a warm shower. You’re freezing.”

Kuai scowled again and muttered darkly.

Bi-Han gave him a grin,

“So adorable.”


	3. Hanzo & Takeda: I Can’t Sleep, Can I Stay Here

It was late. A cold wind clattered at the shutters and sent the candles guttering. Hanzo Hasashi, sat at his desk frowning at paper. He had been determined to keep records of every student – their names, where they came from, their home towns, and next of kin. If there were ever an accident he would be able to contact families. And if a youngster ever grew up and decided the Shirai Ryu was not for them, he could give them back their history, their lives, and all the other things that, when absent, had turned people like the Lin Kuei into cold, empty, merciless killers. First for a Shirai Ryu always came heart. You stay because you desire it. You learn because you love. You do what you must for someone, somewhere, who will live a little easier for it.

He glanced up, instinct telling him he was not alone. A young boy stood in the doorway: the youngest of his students, someone who was not here by choice, and someone who every day Hanzo kept his history from.

“Takeda. It’s late. You should be asleep.”

Not two weeks before, the boy had tried to run away. He had been firm with the child at the time, but since then had been a little gentler with him. It hurt more than he ever cared to let on that a young child would flee from him. A child not so far in age from Satoshi…

“I can’t sleep.”

Hanzo shrouded himself in his best aura of patience.

“What did I tell you about that, Takeda? I said Shirai Ryu recruits stay in their dorms after curfew. Do you remember?”

“It’s cold.” Said the boy, “But its always warm with you. Can I stay here? Will you make the fire come?”

Hanzo mulled backward and forward in his mind, trying to decide whether to cave in or rebuke the boy.

“Come here.”

Takeda looked wary. He sidled up, small hands gripping the desk as he meandered in a vague show of obedience. His eyes were dark, and stubborn, and still a little afraid, like an anxious animal. There were other things in there too, something like the craving for safety, the desire not to be afraid and just to trust, the hope to please, and, almost dormant and invisible, the spark of talent and ambition Hanzo wished to set free.

“Do you know where the fire comes from?” The boy nodded shyly. No doubt there had been rumours. Hanzo sighed, “Then you know it’s not a gift, and it is not summoned idly.”

The boy looked curious and excited,

“Is it true you were a demon from Naraka and that you burned all your enemies and were so powerful you burst into the world of humans?”

Hanzo raised one eyebrow,

“Does that sound real to you?”

“…No?”

“No. Now let’s put you to bed.”

“But you can summon fire…”

“So can anyone with a flint and tinder,” He set down his pen and stood, stretching. He walked to the door. Takeda followed obediently in his shadow.

“And you can fight about ten men at once!”

“So will you if you train well and go to bed on time.”

He led the boy through the starlit dojo. The wood gleamed silver and all was quiet save their bare feet on the creaking boards.

“Demons killed my mother.” The boy said suddenly, “But if I’m with you, they can’t hurt me, can they? You’ll scare them away.”

Hanzo blinked, caught off guard. He frowned as his thoughts wandered to those he had failed a lifetime ago.

“Nothing will hurt you while you are here, that much I can promise.” He smiled slightly and set a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “Go to sleep, Takeda. We have much to do tomorrow.”


	4. Mileena & Tanya: You Look Amazing Tonight

Mileena sat on the cracked red earth pulling shards of bones out from between her fangs. The rough canvas of her war tent flapped at her back, nudged by a hot, dead, wind. She twisted a burnished hand mirror, trying to get an angle that would let her see her teeth without shining the bright heat of the Outworld sun into her eyes. She cursed as light blinded her and tossed away the mirror. It shattered on the hard earth.

Tanya unfolded from the shadows and stretched like a panther.

“Why so frustrated, my queen?” She looped her arms around Mileena’s neck and shifted a bunch of thick wiry hair from her liege’s face.

Mileena scowled,

“I have to meet that moron, Reiko. I have to make him like me enough to support my claim to the throne. And I have _bones in my teeth_!” She threw off Tanya’s arms and growled in irritation.

Tanya moved like silk and seated herself before Mileena. She took Mileena’s face in her hands,

“Not just bone,” She grinned, “Blood too. Remnants of the traitor Kotal’s scouting party. Signs of a true empress out waging her wars on the front line.” She leant forward and kissed Mileena full on the lips. She pulled back, watching the surprise register in her queen’s yellow eyes, “You look amazing tonight.”

Something a little shy registered in Mileena’s face. She was violent, unpredictable, and ferocious, but Tanya knew that appearance had always been a deep insecurity for her.

“Reiko will fall for you, don’t worry.” Tanya stroked her cheek, “He’ll be very boring and predictable, and try to use you for his own ends. But until his betrayal comes to fruition, you will have a powerful ally. See it as a win-win. Power until he stabs you in the back. And once he’s gone, a place opens up at your side for a more worthy lover.” Tanya gave a sly smile and stood. She walked back to the tent, pausing once as she went. She tilted her head, “Keep the blood and bones. It’s a good look. Very Shao Kahn.”


	5. Bi-Han & Sareena: Don't Cry

He stared at her in surprise,

“…Why?”

She gave a strained, pained smile,

“Call it a split-second decision. Like you did for me. That’s all we have time for in the Netherrealm. You see a chance to be complete, you take it before this place drives it from you.”

She was growing cold in his arms, a different kind of cold to cryomancy ice.

He shook his head,

“I don’t understand. You don’t even know me. You don’t know what I’ve done-!”

She reached a pale weak finger up and touched it to his lips.

“I know enough.”

Her face contorted suddenly in a grimace of agony. He held her fragile form in his arms, unsure what to do to relieve her pain. When her shuddering and groaning subsided a little, she was able to look up. She saw his confusion and distress and said quietly,

“Will you kiss me? I’ve never been kissed before.” He stared at her. She smiled with difficulty. Concern started abruptly on her face, “Don’t cry. It doesn’t hurt so much. It will be over soon.”

Bi-Han retracted sharply,

“I’m not- I never cry.” But there seemed to be tears on his cheeks regardless. He tried to wipe them off surreptitiously. When he looked back at her she was dead. He sat silent for some time. He leant forward and kissed her forehead. He laid her still form gently down on the ground.


	6. Sektor & Grandmaster: You're Not Alone

There was silence after they left. The still, stone faces of old Lin Kuei Grandmasters looked down from grey pillars.

“You are angry.”

“One cannot be angry at the Grandmaster, it is treason.” Sektor was glaring at the door their guests had just departed through.

The Grandmaster raised an eyebrow.

“You are harbouring a deep resentment toward my reception hall doors then?”

Sektor turned around and glared at the Grandmaster, not sharing the other’s mild amusement. He looked away quickly, to hide the hurt held in his eyes.

The Grandmaster shifted in his heavy, ornamental, crimson robes,

“You are angered by my choice of assassin to send on this mission.”

“Of course not,” Sektor snapped bitterly, betraying that he very much was, “This conjurer asked for the best and you gave him your best.”

“Sektor…”

“What I don’t understand is why you had to admit as much whilst myself, Sub-Zero, and the client were all present!”

The Grandmaster’s expression softened in an extraordinary moment of rarity.

“Your strengths lie elsewhere. One day you will inherit the leadership of the Lin Kuei-”

“Well, too bad I won’t inherit their respect!”

The Grandmaster’s eyes flashed in anger. Sektor flinched and paled.

“Sorry,” He started, “I spoke out of turn, I did not mean to cut through you and I did not mean t-”

“There is more to being Grandmaster than being the best assassin. I thought I explained that to you.”

Sektor nodded vigorously, trying to make amends before the matter became punitive,

“Yes, Grandmaster.”

“And yet you persist in making a rivalry out of everything Sub-Zero does. He is Lin Kuei as you are. His successes are the successes of your clan. Do not forget that. Loyalty comes before your petty bickering.”

Sektor nodded again, a little less vigorously. He watched the Grandmaster carefully, treading warily with his words,

“I… I know that. I just…” He took a step back to put some distance between them, “You are pleased when he does well. I just… I only wanted to please you also. Is it such a bad thing to want your praise?”

“Only when it causes needless feuds with your fellow clansmen.”

Sektor lowered his eyes. His heart sunk. He felt abandoned, isolated, striving for impossibilities that would always be out of reach, searching for scraps of acknowledgement that would always be denied him out of tradition. He fell silent, hoping he would be dismissed before he said anything more foolish.

“My son,”

Sektor looked up, startled by the uncharacteristic familiarity.

“You are not as alone as you think you are. I was not always the Grandmaster. Once I, too, was the Grandmaster’s son.”

Sektor watched him with wide eyes and a chest brimming with pride at his father’s recognition. He hung on every word, all anger forgotten, hope gleaming forth from his attentive posture.

The Grandmaster’s traditional robes were stiff and barely moved as he spoke,

“Remember, yours will always be a different fate. Do not trouble yourself with matters that are beneath you. I do not reserve my approval for my top assassin alone. I am pleased also with my heir.”

His voice was the same formal monotone, but to Sektor it was a symphony of long awaited affirmation.

Sektor’s eyes were bright and moist and he beamed behind his rigid red mask. He bowed low.

“Thank you, Grandmaster.”


	7. Kuai Liang & Bi-Han: Can't You Stay A Little Longer

Kuai felt like a child again. He sat cross legged on his sleeping mat and watched as Bi-Han got ready. No pleas to his brother or the Grandmaster could forestall the immanent departure of Sub-Zero to the Mortal Kombat tournament.

“Your staring is slowing me down.”

“Good.” Kuai folded his arms and looked away.

“Are you sulking now?”

Kuai said nothing. There was clawing sense of foreboding in his chest. He never liked his brother departing for missions, especially given how high profile and dangerous they’d gotten recently, but this was different. He felt something akin to panic and desperation and a caged frustration that he could not get anyone else to understand.

Bi-Han looked at Kuai Liang. His body language was all stiff and hunted. Even after all these years, his little brother hated being left alone.

“Kuai, stop this. You’re a grown man now. You have to let me go.”

“It’s not just that I want you to stay, I told you this, I have this-”

“This _feeling_. Yes. This _feeling_ that this tournament will bring bad fortune. And how many times have I told _you_ that feelings don’t belong in the Lin Kuei. I have a mission and I know my duty.” He looked down at the large blue eyes staring up at him. He turned away lest they sway him. “And besides, when have I ever not returned to you. I have perfect mission record, and I may well be the greatest assassin the Lin Kuei has ever had.”

Kuai rolled his eyes and rested his head back on the wall,

“You’re too proud, Bi-Han. And the Grandmaster keeps giving you more and more difficult missions. There will come a point when even you-”

“When even I _what_ , Kuai Liang? What do you expect me to do exactly? Go up to the Grandmaster and say no, sorry, my brother has a bad _feeling_ -”

“I just want you to be careful.”

“Careful! _Hah!_ Careful is what every other contestant is going to have to be.”

“Bi-Han!”

Bi-Han sighed. Silence filled the room. Bi-Han finished fastening the clasps on his robes and picked up his mask. He looked down at Kuai and said gently,

“I must go now.”

For a moment the strength in the Kuai’s eyes wavered and Bi-Han saw before him the child he had helped raise from the first moment of their kidnapping many years before.

Kuai swallowed,

“Can’t you stay a little longer? I didn’t want to argue with you… there were so many things I wanted to say before you left and instead I-”

“Hush.” Bi-Han crouched on one knee so that they were at eye level, “You know I can’t, Kuai. It’s never that easy being Lin Kuei, but we manage. We pull through and live to fight another day. Now, stay strong for me, okay? I’ll be back before you notice I’ve gone.” He leant forward and in a rare show of affection, kissed Kuai’s forehead.

Kuai smiled uncertainly, comforted by the gesture, but still consumed with unease at what might come next. Bi-Han stood, gave him a cocky grin and pulled on his mask. Then he was gone.


	8. Reptile & Shang Tsung: Nothing Is Wrong With You

Syzoth sat alone in the cooling shade of tall stone palace walls. It was quiet here, away from the glare of the sun and the eyes of those eager to express the emperor’s displeasure. He had not even intended to partake in the tournament – his skills lay in stealth and silence. He did not do well when paraded in front of crowds to put on a show piece fight with a human stage actor.

He breathed in slowly through a slit nose, his breath rattling against his dull metal mask. He was lucky to be alive. The rules of the tournament were to the death. Life living under the weight of his failure was about to become very different. He would take this brief respite of solace while he could.

He looked up suddenly. The sound of claws on dirt confused him. He saw a someone approaching and for a moment his heart leapt. The figure walked calmly towards him, clad in bone armour with a skin of scales that winked gold and darker shades of green in the bright, Outworld sun. For a few precious seconds he was not alone. The Saurians lived. He was not an anomaly but a people. Then realisation set in and the let down shattered his spirit. He looked away sharply and kept his voice cold to hide his hurt.

“Why do you mock me with such an appearance?”

There was a laugh that went from raspy reptilian rattle to a deep melodious tone. The Saurian before him rippled in the heat and, like a dreaming mirage rolling back, there instead stood the sorcerer Shang Tsung. He was neatly dressed in red robes, sporting a smart black beard and quick cunning eyes.

“Who said anything about mocking you?” The sorcerer said lightly, as if Syzoth were still a somebody, and not the most shamed retainer of the Emperor Shao Kahn.

“You may walk in any guise you please, and yet you would take on the form of something hideous. Something that makes others shiver. Something that moves and looks unnatural. Something wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong with you, Reptile.”

“Then what? You just wanted me dead? Is that why you made me participate in your ridiculous tournament?”

The sorcerer’s thick eyebrows raised as the real topic revealed itself. Syzoth looked away again.

“Our emperor had precious few combatants this year.” Shang Tsung was matter-of-fact and his voice was missing its usual conniving edge, “The actor was never going to kill you. It was apparent from the moment he stepped off that ship that he wasn’t cut out for my tournament. Do not make the mistake of thinking that I do not find you useful, Syzoth. Our emperor may be in a hurry to squander important assets, but I am not.”

It wasn’t the same kind of hope he had felt when he saw the figure of a Saurian walking toward him, but Syzoth had precious few opportunities in Outworld to feel wanted. He would take what came his way.


	9. Kuai Liang & Bi-Han: You Haven't Lost Me

Grandmaster Kuai Liang closed the door on a long day. The Temple was still in pieces. It’s reputation and morale were strewn across its years of civil war. The Lin Kuei persisted through his own sheer willpower, and even that was more out of a need to cling to identity than any strong desire to continue its brutal legacy.

Kuai didn’t want to think too hard about who or what he was without the Lin Kuei. That had all been taken from him a long time ago.

He stood before a mirror. If he stepped a certain distance back and screwed up his eyes then the details faded and he could almost imagine it wasn’t his reflection looking back at him but…

“You haven’t lost me.”

He could always hear Bi-Han’s voice in his head as loud and real as though he were alive again and just beside him.

“I think I might have.” Kuai confessed quietly.

“Not like you to give up so easily.”

Kuai took a slow deep breath and closed his eyes,

“I’m not sure… I’m not sure I can do all this. Everyone is gone. I’m picking up the pieces because I don’t have anything else. And… and I can’t do this on my own. I need you. You were always the innovator.”

“And far too impatient to see any of my own ideas follow through. I see you mastered some new cryomancy powers I never got around to.”

Kuai gave a short hard laugh,

“It’s been so long I’m remembering you wrong. Bi-Han would never have said that.”

There was silence. Kuai sighed and turned away from the mirror. He had matters to attend to before tomorrow. A shadow in the corner of the room moved when he was not looking. It slid out the window and into the night.


	10. Kuai Liang & Bi-Han: Forget It

“What have I told you?!”

The young boy looked up at him with large round eyes. They were uncertain, like they were looking for something familiar in a place full of strangers.

“Kuai Liang, I’m talking to you!”

The boy opened his mouth then closed it again, then lifted a shoulder and turned his cheek into it. He twisted his fingers and tried to look away.

“What have I told you?” Bi-Han repeated.

“Stay away…” The boy said quietly.

“Exactly.” Bi-Han turned his brother by his shoulders, forcing him to look at him. The child looked startled. “You stay away from me in classes, in the corridors, everywhere. You must be a Lin Kuei.”

“Lin Kuei.” The boy repeated.

“Exactly. And a Lin Kuei has no emotion, no familiarity. No one else gets to have a brother. You want the Grandmaster to take me away from you?”

The child’s face went rigid. His lips pursed together and he shook his head vigorously.

“Then we have to show no emotions. So don’t do it again, ok?” Bi-Han lifted Kuai’s chin because his gaze had slunk off again under the admonition.

“Don’t what again, Bi-Han?”

“Hug me.”

The boy hesitated,

“Alright.” He said seriously.

Bi-Han sighed with relief,

“Good.”

Kuai’s face lightened when he saw his brother’s face change. He beamed and put his arms around him.

“Kuai?!”

Kuai let go immediately, face suddenly afraid.

“You- …” Bi-Han’s sigh this time was exhausted. The young child had eyes that were wide, unsure what he had done wrong. Bi-Han put a hand on his brother’s head, “Just…ah. Forget it.”


	11. Kitana & Jade: I Won't Let Anyone Hurt You

Kitana’s mind was a whirl as she let herself be dragged off. The world she knew was crumbling around her. The people she had grown up with, learned from, called family…

She had always known there were formalities to be observed, loyalties to be upheld, duties to be fulfilled, but those weren’t terrible things. Or had they been? Everything was unravelling. Shang Tsung and his charm, ever careful with his words and secretive in his activities – she had given him respect and acknowledged the discretion her father gave him to do as he pleased. Had she been nothing more than a source for his experimentations into darker sorcery? How long had he been searching? When was it that her own father had decided he needed a new daughter, that she was not enough, that she was faulty?

Father.

An Edenian lives thousands of years. Thousands. Shao Kahn was her father. No words could set aside the years spent at his side, struggling to meet his expectations. She would toil for the reward she could see he always meant to give her. And ever in his eyes there was a disappointment that always said ‘next time’. When was it that for him ‘next time’ had become too far away? And had it been as easy as he made it out to be, to rewind the millennia and set them at nothing? He had made a new daughter, a daughter to truly become his heir. A daughter that still looked like her. A daughter he had wanted to fill his expectations, made from scratch like doll. A better Kitana.

The worst wasn’t the lies – the claim that he had killed a man she did not remember. The worst wasn’t even the betrayal – the loss in one moment of all the structure in her universe. It was the knowledge that her father had given up hope that she could ever meet his expectations. And that cut much deeper even than hearing the execution order from his mouth.

She slumped in the bonds they had fixed to her. She had nothing now. Nothing and no one. She had walked from foolishness to foolishness and let her single-minded dedication force her feet down this path. The cold light of realisation was that in retrospect, it was so easy to see the corruption bent and twisted deep in those she had been loyal too. She closed her eyes.

And opened them again. There was a sound of a body dropping to a hard stone floor. Footsteps clacked up stairs. The door slammed open, kicked by an outstretched heeled foot.

“Princess.”

Jade stalked in. There was blood up her uniform. She twirled the staff in her hand in salute and strode the distance quickly to where Kitana was being held.

“I heard everything. And I’m not letting them have you.” Jade’s expression was hard as she looked her in the eyes. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.”


	12. Sektor & Grandmaster: I'm Never Letting You Go

The ceremony begun with slow beats on an enormous standing drum. The warriors knelt in two rows opposite one another. The air buzzed with the slow hum of a mantra welcoming the new heir and pledging the old generation to the new.

The infant’s mother knelt between the two rows of warriors. Her robes were fine and intricate, spread all about her like an opening lily flower. The ornate finery stood in contrast to her pale face and wide eyes. She kept her expression even in this place of cold, old traditions.

The Grandmaster entered slowly, finery jingling as he stepped in sedate solemnity. He stopped between the two rows and looked down at the kneeling woman. In her arms, the infant was wrapped in a white silk gown.

“Our ancestors bear testament to this day. The Lin Kuei recognise this child as heir to their clan and son of the Grandmaster. He will have no mother. He will have no father. He will be of the clan and for the clan. He will be raised to rule and the world will come to fear him. He will stand amongst others until that time when he is lifted up. He will be an empty vessel, filled with the spirit of the clan. He will keep alive the legacy of the Lin Kuei and one day produce an heir of his own to guard our most treasured heritage and keep the clan ways.”

The warriors stood up as one and clasped their fists to their chests in a unison salute. The Grandmaster stepped forward. The woman raised the infant to him. The infant was silent despite the beat of deep drums punctured by the occasional tinny clatter of a bell. The Grandmaster took the child in his hands.

“The heir to the Lin Kuei.” He announced.

The warriors all bowed. The woman stood, bowed, and began to walk slowly away, back through the lines of assassins.

The Grandmaster processed out in the opposite direction. When he arrived back in his quarters, he realised the infant had been trying to catch the tassels on his robe. He stood, unsure what to do. He had a few minutes now that the ceremony was over. Soon the infant’s mother would return to take the child away and wet nurse him for a year.

He looked down at the face of his son. It was the face of someone who neither knew nor remembered nor could understand ceremony or propriety. The Grandmaster drew away his own mask, nudging the door to his quarters closed with his foot. He smiled down at the life in his arms.

“Hello,” He whispered. “Just you and me here.” The eyes that looked back at him were very dark. They blinked slowly, unaware and uncomprehending. The Grandmaster held the baby close, wondering at how small he was in his arms. “I’m never letting you go.” He whispered into his son’s forehead as he cradled him and rocked him gently.

A knock sounded at the door,

“Grandmaster.”

“Enter.”

The Grandmaster stood still and immobile. One of his warriors entered followed by the woman. Her face moved in quick succession from fear to relief. She held out her arms and received her child back into her arms, holding him close and defensive.

“You may leave.” The Grandmaster said emptily.


	13. Bi-Han & Hanzo: I've Always Been Honest With You

“I don’t know who you are, but you should know that creatures of the Netherrealm make sure not to cross my path! You would be wise to follow their example!”

The wraith stood silent, firmly planted in Scorpion’s way. There was something off about the way the light slid off him, as if he absorbed it instead of reflecting it. Scorpion tilted his head to try and catch details that might give him a hint of who dared stand before him.

“Explain yourself or get out of my way.” He snarled, “Preferably the latter.”

The wraith continued to look at him, or so he supposed, for it had white eyes with no pupils. Scorpion felt something inside him recoil. It had been a long time since anything frightened him. Not that he was afraid, just-…

“If you have some quarrel with me, speak it!”

The wraith remained silent.

Scorpion tired of waiting and stepped through a portal fire. With a whirl and roar of flame he teleported behind the wraith.

He started.

The wraith was still before him. He looked back, the wraith was behind him also, but facing him now. Both shadowy figures took a step towards him.

“What is this?” Scorpion couldn’t keep his voice from sounding unnerved. “What do you want!?”

“I’ve always been honest with you.” The wraith behind him spoke. It was a grating voice, coming rough through a mask, but it was also not wholly unfamiliar.

Scorpion put his back to the wall of the narrow corridor, glancing both ways but keeping the bulk of his attention on the speaker.

“You’ve got the wrong hellspawn,” He spat bitterly, “I’ve never met you before. Trust me, I wouldn’t forget.”

There was a silence.

Scorpion felt his insides shiver. He searched in the blank eyes but found only nothing.

A familiar nothing.

“Sub-Zero.” He breathed, recognising the counterweight to his own soul. The wraith did not speak, but Scorpion needed no confirmation. He glanced back at the wraith behind him. It was closer, but Scorpion had not heard it walk. “Sub-Zero, about what happened-… I mean about what I did…”

“I’ve always been honest with you.” The wraith repeated softly.

“But Quan Chi showed me what you did, he showed me-…” Pieces were falling into place in Scorpion’s head. He shook his head and looked behind him. The wraith was closer. He turned back around, and the wraith before him was closer too. His chest constricted and he felt his limbs seize up as a panic of guilt raced through him, “You didn’t kill them…”

“And too late he realises.” Said the wraith in a voice that sounded much more human, and much more like his old enemy Bi-Han, and much more terrifying. “I would never lie about killing your clan, Hanzo.” The wraith was close now and Scorpion could feel the presence of its twin shadow just behind him, “If I had, I would’ve been sure to mention the fact before the battle even started. It would’ve sent you into such a predictable rage and given me all the edge I needed.” Scorpion’s eyes were wide as he stared at point-blank range into the face of his undead nemesis. “But nomatter,” The wraith continued equally quietly, “I am born again in death with so much more power… and so much more time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chinese translation available: [你可以在这里用中文阅读](http://yonghu6036188632.lofter.com/post/1e70e512_12e53f6b0)


	14. Kenshi & Takeda: This Isn't Goodbye

“I don’t understand,” The boy said quietly. “I don’t understand how you can say you’re all those things and then just… just…”

Kenshi turned his face towards the boy. People were often comforted when he pretended to share eye contact with them.

“There is much you do not understand, and much that both of us have learned over the last few days. I have learned I have a son, and you have learned what it is to lose your whole world. At another time, and in another place there is much I could share with you – there is certainly much we have in common.”

“Then why-”

“Now is not that time. My enemies are close on my heels, and your mother has already suffered for that. I will not let the choices I have made take you also.”

Kenshi did not need to see the boy to feel his anguish and loss.

“You will not be alone,” He said gently. “I will leave you in good hands and you will learn to defend yourself. That is all I can give you for now.”

Takeda hugged his arms around himself. There was a numbness in his head blocking out his responses to the chaotic turn his life had just taken. He was far, far from home. His mother was dead. He had been on the run for the last day. And before him stood a serious, blind man with a sword, claiming to be his father. It was too much to register, but if there was one thing he did know, it was that he did not wish to be left alone.

“Don’t leave me here,” He begged, “The man you brought me to frightens me. Please don’t leave me here with him.”

“Master Hasashi is a good friend. I trust him to see you come to no harm.”

“You’ve got a sword, you can defend me.” Takeda blurted, then blushed. The man before him was not much less a stranger than the one he was to be left with. At least his so-called father had already saved him a number of times over the last two days though. And he didn’t have fierce eyes so sharp they looked like they might turn you inside out. Master Hasashi looked like the kind of man who might be angry and strict and shout at him.

“One sword is not enough to protect so precious a life. You will be safe here with the Shirai Ryu.”

That and Hanzo knew how to care for a child, was Kenshi’s immediate thought. He knew their fears and troubles. What did Kenshi know? His time was spent conversing with ancestors long dead and hunting down international criminal syndicates as a lone killer. He had nothing to offer a child but a short and troubled life as a fugitive at his side.

“Please don’t walk out that door. Please don’t leave me alone here. I don’t even know where I am.”

“This isn’t goodbye.” Kenshi was gentle but firm, “I will come back for you.”

Takeda watched him leave. The the stark wood walls of the Shirai Ryu school seemed much darker after he had gone.


	15. Hanzo & Quan Chi: That Was Unexpected

Quan Chi seated himself slowly and thoughtfully in his throne. He surveyed his receiving hall with its non-Euclidean lines and its foundations sunk deep into places where souls eternally scream. Today had been an interesting day. He raised his hand and clenched it into a fist. Old green safts of spirit snapped about his fist as he summoned his servant.

A burst of flame lit the room in a momentary flare of violent light. The spectre Scorpion looked about him, as if for a moment unsure of where he was. Then he turned white eyes on his master, and just as quickly found his temper.

“An imposter walks in Sub-Zero’s place!”

“Indeed.” Quan Chi’s voice was deep and melodious as he considered the turn of events, “That was unexpected.” He turned mocking eyes on Scorpion, “As was your defeat at his hands.”

Scorpion’s body let off a flare of flame as he fumed and paced back and forth before Quan Chi’s throne.

“He does not fight like the Sub-Zero I killed. I could not predict his moves. He caught me off guard – dressed like a dead man and pretending to be one I know so well.”

“So all it takes to defeat my most capable servant is a blue tunic and a mask? It’s a good thing I have a back up plan in motion. I have someone more competent in mind to take pride of place at my side.”

“Then release me!” Scorpion snarled.

“Hm.” Quan Chi folded his arms, “I don’t think so. You need keeping under control. Things tend to burn around you.”

“Like your precious plans.”

“Or your family, perhaps?” Quan Chi smiled as he watched the livid hatred rise in his servant’s eyes. “Calm yourself, Scorpion. It is not me you are angry at. Sub-Zero was responsible, remember. Him and… your own carelessness.” The anger in Scorpion’s eyes died down and became a hollow well of anguish. And like that the most feared creature in Netherrealm was once more malleable in his hands.

“What do you want of me?” The spectre said in a subdued tone trying to hide his self-loathing. “May I kill this new Sub-Zero? This one who claims to seek honour for his dog of a brother.”

“Not at present.” Quan Chi stroked his chin as he thought, trying to ignore the impatient pacing the spectre had started up again. “I do not think he will be a problem for us in the near future. The Lin Kuei now serve Shao Kahn’s purpose.” The necromancer smiled coldly, “And Shao Kahn serves ours.”


	16. Bi-Han & Shang Tsung: Why Me

“Why me?” Bi-Han stood with arms folded, looking out over the strange aberration of an island, held up with illusion and sorcery. It lent and wavered in the sun as if only half there. Its bright tropical palms had an insincere allure to them, whilst its stacked dark stonework was filled with silent gargoyle faces.

“I hear tell that you are a most remarkable warrior. I am something of a collector of those.”

Bi-Han turned slightly, uncomfortable with having his back to the sorcerer. He looked startlingly human, though the Grandmaster had warned Bi-Han not to trust any appearances here. The sorcerer wore fine garb, heavy, red, and ornate, not at all looking like his normal residence was a tropical island.

“Then you must also know that I am an assassin. Doesn’t that concern you?”

“Should it?” Shang Tsung tilted his head.

“You summon warriors from all across earth to fight to the death. A man like that must have many enemies.”

“Not just Earthrealm, Lin Kuei. From across many realms. Yours is but one realm amongst many. But… I think perhaps you already knew that…”

Bi-Han stepped away from the vista and turned his attention to the sorcerer. An assassin was only as good as his secrets, and Shang Tsung seemed to know a little too many of his. Bi-Han narrowed his eyes. He had arrived on this island with the cold confidence of one who knows no defeat. That confidence was double-checking itself now.

“How is my old friend Quan Chi?” The sorcerer asked, as if perhaps the topic were the weather and not the ruling necromancer of the Netherrealm.

“He struck me not one for keeping friends.” Bi-Han said with perfect evenness, carefully hiding how much the question disturbed him.

“Ah, you just don’t have the right thing to offer. He’s a perfectly reasonable fellow. But he is a give-and-take sort of acquaintance. Very materialist. You give me this ancient evil artefact and I’ll perform one undead resurrection, you know the sort.” Shang Tsung eyes twinkled, reading easily Bi-Han’s discomfort.

“And what need have sorcerers and necromancers for people like me?”

“We all of us need weapons, Lin Kuei. You have your command of ice… and I…” He smiled and left the sentence unfinished.

“I may answer your summons, sorcerer, but it is only because my Grandmaster orders it so.” Bi-Han snapped coldly.

“Of course, of course.” Shang Tsung smiled, all charm and grace. His smile stayed as he said matter-of-factly, “But I intend to use the Lin Kuei. And by extension you. Enjoy your stay on my island.” He turned away, but paused before turning back, “Be careful, Sub-Zero. You may perhaps be the finest warrior in Earthrealm, but we are a long way from Earthrealm now. You would do well to puncture your arrogance before someone else does it for you.”

“Many thanks for the advice.” Bi-Han didn’t bother hiding his sneer. This would be one assassination he would personally enjoy.


	17. Kuai Liang & Tomas Vrbada: Kiss Me

“Okay…” Tomas rolled onto his back. The sky above was a clear bright empty blue. They were meant to be watching a villa to establish a guard routine in preparation for a theft later tonight. But it was hot, and the air was fresh and strong with sea salt and the sound of lapping waves. The rooftop they lay on had small cool white walls that sheltered them from the eye of the world. “Okay, so you’re saying you would rather spend a whole day in a personal training session with Sektor, than be handed another assassination mission?”

“Yup.” Kuai had his hands behind his head and his eyes closed.

“What if it was a day when Sektor was in a particularly bad mood, and the assassination target really deserved it?”

“I can still learn from Sektor even when he’s in a bad mood, Tomas. I’d much rather be learning things than having to kill random people.”

“Okay fine. Have another one. Would you rather…”

“Isn’t it my turn?”

“Sh, I’ve got one, would you rather go on a mission with Cyrax or Bi-Han?”

“What kind of mission?”

“Any kind.”

“I don’t know, probably Cyrax? He’d judge me less. Your question game isn’t making me feel better about shirking our duties Tomas. It’s making me way more anxious thinking about Sektor and Bi-Han and-”

“Okay, okay, how about this then-”

“Tomas-”

“Would you rather keep playing this dumb question game, or kiss me?”

Kuai’s eyes blinked open and he angled his head slightly to look at Tomas. Tomas was upside down with his hair a mess of silver glinting in the sun, fanned out about his head where he lay.

“What!” Tomas said innocently.

“Be serious, Tomas.” Kuai rolled his eyes.

“Who said I’m not! You gotta answer the question, Kuai, that’s the game.”

“I’d rather not play this dumb game, that’s for sure.”

Tomas grinned and closed his eyes. It was fun winding Kuai up. And good seeing him finally take time off to relax. The sun was warm on Tomas’s face, pulling out freckles that the cold Lin Kuei Temple kept hidden all year round. His eyes started open suddenly as he felt a soft, cool, pressure on his lips. Tomas’s face became a flushed rush of red as he looked straight up into Kuai’s eyes.

“You said kiss you or answer more stupid questions.” Kuai said simply. Tomas could see canny look in Kuai’s eye as he watched the fluster it sent Tomas into.

“I-I did say that, but I didn’t th-think you’d-…”

“Don’t play games if you don’t want to lose, Tomas.” Kuai sat back against the slight shadow of the low wall, watching Tomas blush furiously and look anywhere but at him. He had a feeling Tomas didn’t mind losing this game.


	18. Tomas Vrbada: I'm Right Where I Belong

_Wake up,_ _Tomáš._

The room was dark. Tomas couldn’t tell if he had opened his eyes or not. Usually a sliver of starlight came in through the shutters of his room. There was nothing now. Only total blackness.

_It’s time to talk._

Tomas shivered. Niggling thoughts like a quiet voice were moving about his head. He had thought they belonged to his dream. It upset him that they still persisted now.

_You’re always pushing me away. As long as you refuse to listen, everything that has happened will remain a mystery to you. You cannot run forever and pretend you belong here._

“I’m right where I belong!” Tomas said out loud. Or he thought he did. His words had a strangely deadened tone, like they hadn’t quite sounded in a place that was fully real.

_How could you know, when you do not know who you are?_

“I know who I am,” Tomas said firmly, but his words sounded somehow uncertain and unsure to his own ears. “I have lived here nearly all my life. I am the choices I make and the friends I have-”

_And the past you run from._

“I’m not running.” There was a long black silence that filled the space after that. It underlined the foolishness of Tomas’s claim.

_Let me begin by telling you the story of how you died._

“I’m not running!” Tomas sat up bolt upright in bed and clasped his hands over his ears, “I’m right where I belong! I’m right where I belong! I’m right where I belong!”

When he opened his eyes a slit of starlight marked the crack between his shutters. His breathing was harsh and ragged and his chest trembled. He swallowed and held his breath, listening for the voice again. There was only silence. Tomas took a shuddering breath and smiled gratefully at the familiar dim shapes of his room. He turned in his bed so that his back was to the wall, hoping that if he sat upright, he would not fall asleep again.


	19. Mileena & Shang Tsung: Who Cares What They Think

The bandages about her were unravelling as she meandered back down to the pits. Her hair was a tangle of blood and thick viscous jelly from the tanks she’d been made in. She blinked as she stepped from the darkness of the stairway into the lurid bright glow of the pits. Her eyes were still unaccustomed to light and her legs had tired quickly after their brief but energetic first use. She sat herself carefully on the edge of an operating table and put a her hand to her head.

“A lot of action for your first day, I warned you to take things slowly.” The sorcerer, Shang Tsung, wiped his hands on a rag. It was bloody as he set it aside.

Mileena turned her hands over experimentally. She touched her arms, her chest, her face.

“Something’s wrong.” She said abruptly.

“You’re muscles are fatigued.” Shang Tsung drew a sheet off a failed experiment and set it over Mileena’s shoulders.

Mileena shook her head,

“Something else.”

Shang Tsung sat next to her on the operating table,

“Something else?”

Mileena nodded slowly, still trying to piece this new world around her together.

“When I woke up, you were there.” Shang Tsung nodded. Mileena continued, struggling to put together her words and experiences, “You said I was perfect.”

“You are perfect.” Shang Tsung said flatly. He gestured round the room to tanks filled with suspended pock-marked corpses in various stages of decay. Teeth too heavy for faces had snapped the necks of some, whilst others looked like the flesh had never managed to grow. “You only have to look around you to see imperfection. You are the first perfect thing I have created in a very long time.”

Mileena reached out an uncertain hand towards Shang Tsung’s face. The sorcerer withdrew from her before she could touch him. Her hand dropped slowly.

“They look at me strangely. They hate me even before I attack them. Something isn’t right. I don’t understand why they are so angry. Only you say kind things, everyone else-”

“Your father will appreciate you when he meets you. There is more to perfection than half-baked conceptions of aesthetic beauty, Mileena. I have lived millennia. I have walked in places most men tremble to even think of. I have toyed with life, death, and in between, I have studied the veil that separates planes and realms, I know the whispers of dimensions that shift here and there, and secrets that can only be brewed in an Outworld laboratory where everyone is a potential test subject. I know perfection. And I made you. What does it matter what anyone else thinks?”

Mileena pulled the sheet around her. She was quiet for a bit. She placed her tongue between two of her enormous inch long teeth to dislodge a fraction of bone from a man she had eaten just earlier.

“And you think my father… won’t hate me like they do?”

“I should think not. I made you according to his specification.”

Mileena took a breath, she was feeling more confident.

“Then who cares what they think! If I’m good enough for you and father, then that’s enough. I’ll eat everyone else.”

“That’s the spirit,” Shang Tsung clapped her on the back and stood.

“Can I have a mask though? For my face? So that they can’t see I’m different?”

Shang Tsung looked at her for a long moment.

“Anything you wish, Princess.”


	20. Cyrax & Sektor: What Are You Running From?

Cyrax found him on the Temple walls, standing still looking out at the hostile landscape of rigid peaks in deep snow. His usually neat hair was escaping in the brisk, biting wind. He looked a little less in control and a little more vulnerable.

 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Cyrax said gently as he came to stand next to his friend.

 

“I assure you, I have not.” Sektor might have looked more approachable, but his voice was as cold as ever.

 

“Then what? What are you running from?”

 

“I’m not _running_ from anything, Cyrax.” He snapped.

 

T he wind filled the silence between them, it cut along the Temple battlements and whisked snow into flurries that obscure d the horizon. Cyrax wrapped his arms around him self . He’d never gotten used the winter temperatures here.

 

“You don’t always have to shut me out, you know. I thought you were going to try and talk more.” There was another silence. Cyrax sighed. “You don’t make this easy. You expect loyalty, friendship, trust, but these things are mutual, Sektor. You can’t cut me out just when-”

 

“This is different.” Sektor said curtly.

 

“Everything’s different. Every time you promise to try harder, to think beyond the scope of your ambitions, but there’s always some new big plan, some new vengeance, some new way you aim to outdo yourself, and-”

 

“My father summoned me yesterday.”

 

C yrax went abruptly quiet. Matters concerning the Grandmaster were sensitive to Sektor. He wasn’t going to push a conversation if it concerned the Grandmaster.

 

“He… intimated that if I truly wished to lead the Lin Kuei, I would be the first to volunteer myself to a… new initiative he’s implementing.”

 

“What kind of initiative?” Cyrax was guarded.

 

“A secret kind.”

 

“Sektor, you’re not giving me anything here!” Cyrax put his hands on Sektor’s shoulders and turned him to face him. It was a dangerous move, but he knew just then he could get away with the contact. “You don’t need to prove anything to him. You’ve more than proved yourself a hundred times over! The Grandmaster will always set one more thing before you, demand one more show of ‘proof’-”

 

“And I will always obey.”

 

“You’re a greater man than he gives you credit for.” Cyrax said with surprising venom.

 

Sektor looked at him for the first time. A strange expression mulled on his face for a moment, then smoothed over. He turned back to the wind carved cornices and jagged precipices of his home.

 

“I’m not afraid.” His voice was blank of emotion. It hurt Cyrax to hear it. “I welcome all opportunity for improvement. To strive for perfection is what it means to be Lin Kuei.”

 

Cyrax hugged his arms around himself again. He looked down at his feet, he’d stood still long enough that the snow was heaping around his boots.

 

“But at what cost?” He asked quietly.

 

Sektor’s eyes were hard and unrecognisable.

 

“At any cost.”


	21. Kuai Liang & Bi-Han: I've Always Been In Your Shadow

Kuai sat swinging his feet and looking out across the empty courtyard just touched by evening light.

“What’s up?” Bi-Han punched his shoulder lightly as he sat down next to him. They were seated on a raised stone walkway that bordered the main sparring ground in the Lin Kuei Temple. As evening settled it was finally quiet, though still speckled with sweat, drops of blood and splinters from shattered training weapons. Bi-Han gave Kuai a sharp elbow, “Didn’t see you at dinner.”

“Ow!” Kuai rubbed his ribs and scowled at his brother. “I wasn’t hungry.”

“Ah. Too full of sulking to stomach food.”

“I’m not sulking, Bi-Han!” Kuai folded his arms and crossed his legs.

“Uh huh. Sure.”

Kuai let out a puff of air that blew hair out of his face,

“It’s not fair.” He said at last.

“So you _are_ sulking.”

“Today I did everything perfectly. _Perfectly._ You want to know what happened?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”

“The Grandmaster called me over. He’d been watching the training session. He called me over to tell me that when _you_ were my age you’d mastered these moves years ago. He told me I was slacking and that he will not tolerate laziness.”

Bi-Han raised an eyebrow.

“Hmm,” He hummed, “Well he’s not wrong. You’re what, seventeen? I’d already-”

“Bi-Han!?”

“Right. Yes. Very inconsiderate of him. He should have baked you a cake.”

Kuai’s face went from a black scowl to a gradual despair, until all that was left were sad eyes and defeat. Bi-Han shifted uncomfortably.

“Look, Kuai. I don’t know what to say. He’s a hard master, he always has been.”

Kuai uncrossed his legs and kicked them again,

“I just wish he’d judge me on what I can do, instead of by your standards. Whatever I do it’s never enough. I’ve always been in your shadow.”

Bi-Han sighed. He gave Kuai a sidelong look,

“Look, it sucks being the eldest too.”

“No way it does.” Kuai muttered.

“It does.” Bi-Han assured him. “You think I want to watch my little brother talked down to, or fixed up with a much more senior sparring partner? Being oldest means spending every other second checking over your shoulder to make sure you’re alright, and the rest of the time trying not to punch anyone that lays a finger on you.”

“You fill me with confidence, Bi-Han.” Kuai said with ironic dispassion. “You shouldn’t have to do that stuff for me any more. I’m not a little child.”

“You’ll always be a little brother though.” He went to mess up Kuai’s hair, but Kuai anticipated him, and caught his hand and twisted it. Bi-Han let his arm go loose and with a single fluid movement shook free of the lock. “Not bad.” He remarked.

“How did you do that? Urgh, never mind, more perfect older brother tricks no doubt.” Kuai returned to glowering at the yard, his expression thicker than thunderstorms.

“Well… you want to find out or you want to sit there sulking all day?”

Kuai looked up at him with guarded, hurt eyes. Reluctantly he stood up and followed Bi-Han to the centre of the yard where the sun was soft and orange on the flagstones. Kuai pulled his shoulders back and took a deep breath.

“Show me how to do that trick that gets you out of wrist locks?”


	22. Sektor & Grandmaster: I Never Meant To Hurt You

It was dark in the deep chamber. Water dripped in slow, irregular patterns. There were sparks where it hit raw wiring, and small bursts of flash light flared in the dull gloom.

The Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei stood in his full floor length robes. The hem pulled through soft green mould clinging to damp stone. It was hard to see in dim light. He tried to peer into the dark, but was unwilling to step further forward. He looked over his shoulder to a man with a backlit keyboard mounted on a tall stand.

“Is it done?”

The man bowed his head in assent. The Grandmaster turned back to the dark room. He shook his head, unable to discern anything.

“Can’t see, Grandmaster?”

The Grandmaster jumped at the voice. It was deep, and resonated thick with a mechanical filter.

“Sektor?” He called to the dark, betraying just a little of his uncertainty.

“You should get that fixed. No space for imperfection in the Lin Kuei.”

The Grandmaster took a step back.

There was a hum like a whir of quiet generators cycling up. Red light blinked on, tracing out the shape of a humanoid in bright neon. There was a clank of metal as the figure stepped forward. The Grandmaster held his ground as the creature approached him. It was taller than he remembered. It bore thin blue slits of light instead of eyes. He looked up into a sheer smooth metal face, with only filters breaking the evenness of the mask.

“Sektor.” The Grandmaster meant that to sound more sure, but it still came out a little like a question.

A large steel hand stretched out towards the Grandmaster’s face. He stayed perfectly still. The hand hovered, and for a second its fingers looked tender.

“You look small,” The grating voice said, “And weak.”

“Sektor.” The Grandmaster said again, and this time there was something close to pleading in his voice. No one had ever heard the Grandmaster plead.

“You should assign yourself for cyberisation as soon as possible.” The cyborg turned away from the Grandmaster with disinterest and began to inspect the weaponry on his arms. He looked up to the man with his backlit keyboard, “There is work to be done on these flamethrowers. The design is inferior. I will oversee the changes.”

“Yes, sir.” The mechanic replied.

“Sektor…” The Grandmaster said again. His presence had always commanded the totality of his son’s attention. Of all the changes he could see before him, this one hit home most hard.

The cyborg moved over to the mechanic, leering down to inspect his work.

“You mean _now_ , sir?” The man asked.

“Why not now?” The cyborg said flatly.

The mechanic glanced at the Grandmaster and, on seeing no objection, brought up an LCD screen and began pulling up blueprints.

“I never meant to hurt you.” The Grandmaster whispered, almost inaudible.

The cyborg looked up,

“Your concerns are irrelevant. This model feels no pain. There, change that-” He pointed back at the LCD screen. “Modify the gauge.”

“Sektor?” The Grandmaster said for the fifth time.

“Is there something I can help you with?” The Cyborg turned empty blue eyes on him. “Without these modifications I will not be ready for my next mission. I advise returning above ground until the necessary modifications have been made. I will report for your orders when fully upgraded.”

The Grandmaster looked at his son with a steady even gaze that locked away the turmoil stewing within. He turned and walked away. His footsteps were heavy as he left.


	23. Kuai Liang & Tomas Vrbada: There Won't Be A Next Time

Kuai looked down at the plans in front of him. The pages were wafer thin and spread the whole width of the table. He gingerly lifted the top one to see the floor plan of the level beneath.

“I just can’t see any easy exits once we get in here. I’m worried we’ll be backing ourselves into a corner. And once the security has gone off-”

“Kuai, relax.” Tomas flicked a curling corner of the paper. Kuai batted his hand away and smoothed out the fragile page. “It’ll be fine, we’ve got out of tighter spots.”

“ _You_ can just turn into smoke.” Kuai pointed out.

“And you can freeze a wall so thick it stops bullets. So we’ve kind of got this nailed, okay? Now will you chill and come join me?”

“Did you just make an ice pun?”

“What answer gives me an evening with Tundra?”

Kuai growled in response but moved away from the blueprints.

“What do you even want to do? We already ordered food to the apartment.”

“Because _somebody…_ ” Tomas sidled up and gave Kuai a prod in the chest, “…Already decided he was going to stay in all evening fretting over plans to make sure the mission goes as perfect as his big brother’s.”

Kuai frowned.

“Don’t even bother denying it,” Tomas added. He put his finger on Kuai’s nose, “You look funny when you pout.”

“I’m not _pouting_ , Tomas.” Kuai swatted his hand away. “I just want to get this right. We always half get missions right. And I’m sick of Bi-Han going back over every detail and mistake. I want to prove I can be as good as him.”

“Personally, I think you’re better.” Tomas pushed into his personal space, backing Kuai against a wall.

Kuai blushed and glanced away. Tomas flicked a strand of hair from Kuai’s face. He was very close now, and instead of dropping his hand, his fingers lingered, hovering a breath away from Kuai’s cheek.

“Tomas…” Kuai said gruffly. His eyes were glancing anywhere but up, and his cheeks were reddening. “The mission. We should focus on-”

“The mission. Yes.” Tomas’s voice was as soft as the long silver wispy hair that tickled Kuai’s skin. “There’ll always be the mission though, Kuai.”

“Next time-” Kuai offered.

“There won’t be a next time.” Tomas said quietly, “Not for this.” Kuai felt the air go out of Tomas as he sighed. Tomas stepped back, shoulders sinking at the rejection. Kuai could already see his friend building back up the layers to shield his emotion.

“Wait.” Kuai put a hand on Tomas’ shoulder. His friends eyes snapped up so quickly that they hit Kuai with the full force of their hope. The mission, Bi-Han, and the Lin Kuei faded from Kuai just then. He became aware of the present, of these seconds not as plans belonging tomorrow, but as lived moments. He was not a younger brother, an assassin, or student. He was him, Kuai Liang, and in the eyes wide and earnest, and a little unsure before him, he saw another human being who wished to share those moments with him. He was stunned into silence by that deeply personal revelation.

“I don’t want anything you don’t.” Tomas said shakily, misreading Kuai’s silence. He made to take another step back.

Kuai drew him close. They’d been close all their lives – in training, in missions – and despite all that proximity, closeness somehow felt new just then. Kuai felt Tomas’s heartbeat against his chest, and his breath just shy of rapid as it came fast and warm against Kuai’s neck.

“I think I know what I want now.” Kuai said gently. He leaned down and kissed Tomas, pressing his lips softly to his. There was tenderness there and something more raw, like bubbling water behind a dam of subdued emotions built up thick through Lin Kuei training. _So this is what it feels like to be free,_ was Kuai’s first thought, and in the next moment he had pushed his tongue into Tomas’s mouth, exploring that new warmth and rebellion.

When he withdrew Tomas’s eyes were wide as moons and his cheeks pinker than blossoms. Tomas was so warm with joy he seemed to glow. Kuai looked at his friend all quiet and framed by the faint lights of the city beyond the open window. He had a radiance to him like a newly lit candle. He was all shy smile and dreamlike disbelief.

“Tomas Vrbada with no words? Now I really have seen it all.” Kuai smiled.


	24. Kotal Kahn & D'Vorah: I've Always Hated This Place

“Come, walk with me, First Minister.” Kotal Kahn extended a hand and gestured to the dusty streets.

“Out there?” D’Vorah clicked disapprovingly, “There are many who still resent your title, Emperor. This one would advise against it.”

Kotal Kahn gave a slight smile. He glanced up, the sun was bright and hot.

“I don’t think we will have any trouble today.”

D’Vorah looked up also. She knew the emperor drew some kind of power from the sun, but she did not trust superstition and magic alone to protect them from the notorious numbers of rebels and dissidents lurking in the city shadows. Having voiced her displeasure, she was left with little choice but to obey at Kotal Kahn’s insistence. She gave a slight tilt of her head and followed him into the dust and heat.

The road was wide, paved by cracked old stone, set long before either of them had ever arrived in this realm. D’Vorah had never truly got used to the feel of foreign land under her feet. She passed a sidelong look at the emperor. He looked in his essence, taking Outworld in his stride like he was born to it. D’Vorah had to add a flit of her wings to every fourth step to keep pace with him. Her cautious eyes snapped in every direction, peeling apart alleyways with her piercing gaze and scrutinising every face they passed for signs of treachery. The city’s inhabitants went about their daily lives, choosing, probably wisely, to lower their gaze and ignore the enormous blue figure of their emperor walking amongst them.

“You look ready to murder every merchant we pass, D’Vorah.” Kotal Kahn said, surprising her with the informality in his almost jovial tone, “Are we expecting a knife to leap from amidst the vegetable cart today?”

“As fine a place as any to hide a knife.” She returned stiffly. She didn’t really do informality. It made her feel wary, as if there were some ulterior motive.

The emperor laughed.

D’Vorah’s wings flicked, shimmering in the heat. She clicked her chitinous armour impatiently,

“Is there a reason we are here, Emperor?”

“Amongst the rabble, you mean?” Kotal Kahn said mildly.

She _had_ meant that, but decided not to answer in case it he disapproved.

Kotal Kahn rolled back his shoulders, clearly enjoying the dry heat. D’Vorah hated it. She missed the endless turquoise sea, damp wet undergrowth, thick creepered trees, nights alive with glowing insects, and mornings spent snapping off thick juicy fruits syrupy with sugar.

“We’re here because, I wish to speak with you, D’Vorah. Not- like that-…” He waved a placating hand because she had become stiff and sharp in her movements at the implication of wrongdoing. “Just- as two people, running a realm together.”

“You are running the realm, Emperor.” She grated, “This one merely advises.”

“Yes. Well. _This one_ ,” He gesture to himself – D’Vorah didn’t appreciate the appropriation of her mannerisms – “Would like to get to know his first minister better. You are a great mind and a great asset. But it pays to know the people, and not just as tools.”

“What do you want to know, Emperor? This one is here the same reason any of us not native to this place are here. Because this one has talent and was forced under duress.”

Kotal Kahn raised an eyebrow,

“Surely you have stayed for more reason than that, D’Vorah? Outworld is not such a bad place, and the old emperor is long dead now.”

D’Vorah flitted her wings and cracked her features into something resembling a slight smile. It was still a cold smile,

“Not really, Emperor. This one has always hated this place. This one stays because it is an influential position from which to oversee the well-being of my homeland.”

“So you are here to ensure the hand of the next tyrannical emperor does not destroy your people or land?”

D’Vorah’s mirror black eyes darted in a furtive glance and her shoulders hunched slightly, making herself smaller.

“Of course not, Emperor.” She said, a little too quickly.

“Good, good. I would hate for you to think that way of me.” Kotal Kahn gave a broad smile, like the sun itself had come down from on high. As he turned away from her however, a darkness fell over his face and set deep in his features.


	25. Hanzo & Takeda: It's Alright To Cry Every Once In A While

Takeda had been silent the last two nights. With the threat of the Kamidogu daggers still pressing upon them, Hanzo had thrown himself into the work of hunting them down. In the face of utter loss and soul shattering pain, he always turned his mind immediately to action. Pain could be satiated by hurling himself into something – it didn’t matter the task, it just had to be all-consuming enough to dull the pain. He wasn’t alone this time though. The boy with him was too young to yet be called a man, and too young to have seen all his eyes had seen.

Takeda hadn’t been as quiet as this in a long time. Not since he first came to Hanzo, afraid and furtive. Seeing the boy retreat inside himself hurt Hanzo. It reminded him of the days when Takeda had been frightened of him. It hurt that after years of trying to mentor the boy, he still in times of anguish hid within himself, as though Hanzo wasn’t there. _Much like I do._ Hanzo started at that thought. It was true he hadn’t exactly expressed himself to Takeda. He wasn’t good with putting emotions into words. And he had his own demons to wrestle with. He couldn’t let the massacre of his clan tip him over like last time: make him vulnerable to manipulation and misdirection. He couldn’t let that fire for vengeance consume him. How was he meant to comfort a child when he couldn’t master himself?

Under the crackling flame of a campfire, who’s light cast rich flickering shadows on the cave wall, Hanzo finally looked up, and searched his student’s face. Takeda was tucked deep into his Shirai Ryu hood, arms drawn around himself, staring into the fire. There was a chill up in the mountains this high. Stray snowflakes twisted beyond the cave mouth, and blank snow filled a monochrome landscape beyond.

Hanzo drew his own clothes around him. He stretched out a hand towards the fire. Takeda flinched when he pushed it into the flames. Hanzo smiled, it was an old trick that still startled his younger students - … student. He retained a power over hellfire, and no flame could burn his skin. He turned his palm in the flames, and let a blossom of fire bloom from his hand. The shadows danced higher and protesting branches cracked with renewed fervour under the pyromancer’s instruction. Takeda settled back into his hood, sullen at having been startled by one of his master’s old tricks.

Hanzo watched Takeda return to his dark mood and contemplation. He lifted his hand out of the fire, but kept a cup of flames in his palm. He brought his other hand up behind it, and bent his fingers into strange shapes. He could see Takeda looking out the corner of his eyes, puzzled at the odd contortions his master was making with his hand. Hanzo saw the boy’s eyes widen when he caught sight of the shadows the hand cast. Animals moved on the cave roof – a finicky deer, then a curious rabbit, a sly fox slinking just above the shadow line, a hawk with hooked beak, a coiling snake looking for prey – Hanzo brought them all to life with fire and handiwork and shadow.

Hanzo covertly watched Takeda watching him. The boy moved to get a better angle, his hood fell down as he peered up at the shadow animals. Eventually, Hanzo lowed his hands and extinguished the flame in his palm.

Takeda looked suddenly embarrassed. He glanced quickly into the campfire. Hanzo tilted his head so he could look under Takeda’s fringe. Takeda slowly turned his face up and met his master’s gaze. Takeda’s eyes suddenly brimmed with tears. They started as pearly beads just caught in his lashes, and quickly became rivers, streaming down his cheeks. Takeda sniffed them, brushed them, hid them, but nothing would make them stop.

Hanzo set a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s alright.” He said softly, for both of them. “It’s alright to cry every once in a while.”


	26. Cyrax & Sektor: You Never Listen To Me

Cyrax was giving him that look again. It was that look that said he’d crossed a line.

“You’ve got a problem with me again. You’ve got a lot of problems with me, don’t you, Cyrax.”

Cyrax folded his arms and took a deep breath, looking away.

“Look, I hate to break it to you-“ Sektor walked around until he was in Cyrax’s line of sight again, his gestures all presence and seeping with barely contained irritation. “But there _is_ more than just you I have to please at any given moment.”

“Clearly.” Said Cyrax coldly, “You’re now an accessory to what – kidnapping, human experimentation, anything I’m missing?”

“Please. As if the Lin Kuei hasn’t been doing that for years-“ He put up a hand to stay Cyrax’s anger, “Not that I’m saying it’s right, but – those were the Grandmaster’s orders. What do you expect me to do?”

“How about not volunteer to oversee the experiments?! What are they even doing to those people down there? It looked like they were bonding flesh to wiring-?”

“ _Hushhh, hush_ -“ Sektor took a step closer but Cyrax raised a finger and that stopped him.

“No. Not again, Sektor. You can’t just _hush_ me and pretend like this is nothing. You _never_ listen to me!”

“Listen, I’m sorry my father has some more… psychotic requests that he makes, but I-“

“Carry them out like an equally psychotic son.”

Sektor’s eyes flashed, but Cyrax ignored the danger.

“What do you want, Sektor? You seem to want to be close to people – to me, to your fellow Lin Kuei – but the things you _do…_ ”

“And you wouldn’t do as he asked? You’d object?”

“Yes! Or raise it at least.”

“You think I haven’t tried?” Sektor raged back and forth, his usually neat hair a dishevelled mess behind him. He pulled off a piece of armour and threw it to the ground.

Cyrax flinched at the thrown armour, but his expression changed as he computed the words.

“You… spoke with the Grandmaster about this? Raised it with him?”

Sektor nodded curtly, still not looking round. He folded his arms, fuming to the black open window in his quarters. Cyrax moved hesitantly closer.

“And… ?”

“And what?” Sektor snapped.

“What did he say?” There was something in Sektor’s body language that disturbed Cyrax. He stepped around so that he could see Sektor’s face. He looked uncertain, and if Cyrax didn’t know better, afraid. “Sektor?”

Sektor looked away and his hair came in a flurry after him, falling to cover his features.

“I got the impression he didn’t appreciate me questioning his orders.” He bit off each word.

Cyrax stepped in closely now, moving the hair from Sektor’s face to better read him. He was all care and attention, calm and gentle, and everything Sektor craved in a life starved of affection.

“Did he hurt you again?” Cyrax pressed a palm to Sektor’s chest, feeling down to his abdomen until he met a sharp hiss of pain and Sektor twisted away. “Why didn’t you say something?” Cyrax said softly, parting the robes slightly to reveal a thick dark purple bruise as a band beneath the right ribcage.

“Because you’re within your right to be angry.” Sektor was still scowling, though he’d stopped pulling away. “I only argued with him because I thought it was what you would have wanted. Not because I’ve magically become a better person. And I failed all the same, so what was the point in telling you. I just do what I’m told. As always. You’re right about that.”

“Sektor…” Cyrax turned his face towards him, “It makes _all_ the difference. Forget the reasons, forget the outcome. What you did means something.”

“Means a broken rib or two.” Sektor muttered under his breath.

“Means something to me.” Cyrax smiled at him. Sektor’s heart skipped a beat, but then he was scowling again.

“It doesn’t mean anything, Cyrax. I am who I am. And at the end of the day, I follow orders and do what’s right for the Lin Kuei.”

“But that could change… There’s time to change. Time… to really think about whatever it is the Grandmaster is planning. Time to oppose it… if it needs opposing.” Cyrax added that last part hurriedly, on seeing Sektor’s eyebrows raise.

“We’ll see.” Sektor folded his arms, “I’m not down with all this experimenting on civilians, but who knows what the results may be. Could be an asset. Could help perfect the Lin Kuei, make better assassins of us.” He shrugged, though the movement pained him a little. “We don’t need to rush into judging my father’s experiments. Give it time.”

Cyrax’s smile became stiff. He paused, then said with difficulty,

“Yes… I suppose we’ll have to see.”


	27. Kuai Liang & Hanzo: Don't Cry For Me

Starlight painted the Lin Kuei Temple in muted tones of silver and shadow. The Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei was a part of its stillness – a statue in its ornate, silent finery. If Hanzo didn’t know better, he might have thought the man had become like the ice he wielded.

“You have returned again.” The Grandmaster spoke with no coldness, but also no warmth. His words were perfectly neutral.

“To discuss clan matters.” Hanzo said quickly. He took a step over the threshold and into the room. He realised now that it was a shrine, with a large steel gong set up before a plain alter. With the door open, the little shrine was open to the elements, and swirls of snow collected in its corners. He suddenly felt very out of place – even more so than any Shirai Ryu might naturally feel in Lin Kuei territory.

“What more is there to discuss? We have set out accords and treaties for peace. The old feud is behind us.”

“Not… entirely.” Hanzo said with difficulty. This place spoke Sub-Zero from its glacial quiet to its frigid temperature. He had a sudden urge to light all the snuffed out candles in the shrine and bring some warmth and light to the place. He resisted, on seeing that the melancholy wasn’t just in the architecture. “When I was last here… we discussed the uh –” It was still hard for his pride to say aloud, “The… mistakes I made. The… way I was manipulated. The… wrongs I did.” Hanzo frowned. He had practised these words, but when saying them now they didn’t quite convey all that he wanted. “The wrongs I did to _you_ , Sub-Zero.”

The Grandmaster turned. He cut a very different figure from the furious young man who had demanded his blood at the tournament many years ago. The energy was gone, even if the hurt still remained.

Grandmaster Kuai Liang tilted his head,

“We did indeed discuss that. And as I said, you can hardly be held responsible for those events.”

“You are stilled pained by them.” Hanzo said abruptly.

Kuai stiffened. Then he gradually smoothed over the reaction,

“As you well know, all things take time to heal.” He turned back round. As he did, Hanzo realised that not all the candles were dark. One flickering flame danced on the alter, so small that until Kuai had moved it had been invisible. Hanzo didn’t need to be able to read the characters beside it to know who it was dedicated to.

“I’ve come at a bad time.” He cursed himself internally for always bursting into every moment with the subtlety of a freight train. “Please excuse me, Sub-Zero.” He made to back out of the shrine.

“No, it’s alright.” Kuai said quietly, gesturing for Hanzo to stay. Then he admitted more slowly, “I… light a candle every night. It… helps.”

Hanzo stilled and try to give the shrine the same reverence Kuai did. Regretting Quan Chi’s influence over him didn’t exactly make it any easier to see the old Sub-Zero in the same radiant light Kuai Liang did, but he could begin to at least imagine. He thought of the things that hurt, his family, his clan – twice over – irreplaceable moments in time that belonged now only to fading memories. Bi-Han was one of those for Kuai Liang. He was a Kana or a Jubei. Once of those holes that never filled. A death that took so much of oneself with it.

Hanzo started, touching a finger to his cheek. _Tears._ He wiped them away quickly. It was one thing to offer an old nemesis a truce, it was quiet another to give him tears.

“Don’t cry for me.” Kuai Liang said in his same emotionless monotone.

Hanzo opened his mouth to retort angrily. Sub-Zero hadn’t even turned around, how could he know-… He decided against any response. Acting on fiery impulse was after all the source of most of his troubles, past and present.

“I am not angry. Only a little lost. We have all lost things. I no more so than any other. And there are new things to occupy us. New wars. New generations. Youth that has not seen the horrors you and I have seen. Today you catch me in one of my more self-indulgent habits. Lighting a candle for…” The Grandmaster stopped unexpectedly. Hanzo tried to read his perfectly still shoulders. The silence continued until Kuai Liang could speak again in his even tone. “Lighting a candle for him gives me designated moments for grief, so that the rest of the day may go on its way.”

Hanzo nodded. He still felt an imposter for standing in this sacred space.

“So… the peace between our clans still stands?”

“Of course.” Kuai Liang said with the first hint of passion in his voice. He extinguished the flame with two fingers. Then turned and walked with Hanzo out of the shrine and into the clear cold night, “So that none after us suffer as we have.”


	28. Bi-Han & Shang Tsung: So This Is What Became Of You

Shang Tsung’s eyebrows climbed almost to his hairline.

“So, this is what became of you.”

“It’s a good look, do you like it? The blue didn’t say undead and done with the Lin Kuei enough for me.”

“Clearly Quan Chi saw fit to resurrect your delightful personality too.” Shang Tsung circled the undead assassin, admiring the necromancy.

“Stop that. Its disturbing.” Noob Saibot grated through his mask. He’d been resurrected a whole day and hadn’t killed anything yet, so the time felt wasted.

“I’m a great admirer of Quan Chi’s work. So hard to manipulate dead flesh. Especially burned, charred-“ Noob Saibot shuddered, and Shang Tsung stopped. A cold smile spread over his features. “I _am_ sorry,” He said without sounding it, “Didn’t mean to stir up your recent unfortunate demise.”

The assassin flicked a hand in dismissal, covering over the fraction of fear he’d let slip through,

“Unfortunate? Is it unfortunate to become immortal? To command the night itself? To slip between physical and immaterial the way a mere man…” And here his eyes lingered on Shang Tsung, “… walks through a door? I have become what those with ambition dream of becoming.”

“Strange,” Shang Tsung hummed in amusement, “To me you look a mere shadow of your former self.”

The moment could have gone either way, it hovered between droll and offence for a few seconds, before Noob Saibot’s empty white eyes crinkled and shared the humour.

“We shall see how my new power performs in battle. As soon as Quan Chi has a suitable target, we shall see if Noob Saibot is shadow still compared to Sub-Zero.”

The sorcerer nodded in an agreement that wasn’t wholly absent of mockery. He turned his back on the assassin and studied the décor of chamber they lingered in. It sported a tapestry he’d purchased from some long dead species nearly a thousand years ago. It was fading and doing nothing for the room’s ambience. He’d have to have it removed.

“So…” He said mildly, enjoying the slight irritation all his words raised in the wraith, “It’s... what… trading one master for another?” He kept his tone innocent, but knew every button to push. He could see the wraith fighting with his own pride and ambition to keep the treachery from his answer.

“Something like that.” Noob Saibot snapped, finally losing his cool.

“Ah – Bi-Han if I’d known you were for sale I would have tossed own my metaphorical hat into the ring!”

Noob Saibot took two long breaths to calm himself. The use of his name came as a particular surprise, and reminded him that the Lin Kuei were still in very tight with Shang Tsung, Shao Kahn and whatever concoctions they were brewing for the remainder of the tournament.

“But no matter- Quan Chi and I are good friends.” Shang Tsung mused, “Perhaps I can borrow you to do a little legwork. With his permission of course.”

Noob Saibot glared at him.

“And I enjoy your company of course,” Shang Tsung continued, “Such a charming conversation partner.”

“Thanks, I took a master class in gallow’s humour. Lin Kuei speciality.”

Shang Tsung paused, a curious expression on his face. A smile slowly grew there.

“Not that I’m Lin Kuei,” The wraith added hastily. He ground out a noise of frustration when he saw the sorcerer’s smile. He meandered over to a stone pallisade that looked out over the island below. “I just meant that’s where I-… forget it. Is this what I have to get used to? Smart comments from wizards or whatever you are?”

“Sorcerer.” Shang Tsung corrected. He joined the wraith in looking down at the vibrant bay and the brilliant luxurious foliage clustered along the jagged cliffs: a paradise in the veil between realms that had taken centuries to perfect. “And trust me this is the refined end of the company. Soon you’ll be off to Netherrealm where its all eternal torment and fiery hellscape.”

The wraith fell silent, finally having no comeback.

“Having second thoughts about serving Netherrealm?”

“The choice wasn’t mine to start with.” The wraith retorted. All the games and banter were gone and Shang Tsung’s eyes narrowed, having finally pulled off the veneer from the creature before him.

“I mean… ” The sorcerer said softly, “From what I hear, you _were_ warned… By Lord Raiden himself no doubt.” He watched as the wraith fell deeper into silence. “Can’t have been a surprise, Bi-Han.” He watched the unreadable things at work behind the wraith’s mask. He took a certain pleasure in dissecting people, whether physically or metaphorically speaking. He turned his back on the vista and leaned in close to the wraith, “I know _I’m_ not surprised.” He gave a quick smile, then clapped him on the shoulder. “Good chat. See you around!”

Shang Tsung turned and walked away, leaving Noob Saibot staring out into whatever was left to him.


	29. Raiden & Liu Kang: Old Thunder Returns to the Earth

They sat in the ruins of the Shaolin Temple. It was the season of long wild rains where foliage was thick with the pelt of constant water and fallen stone guardians seemed to spill tears where they lay. There were distant crumbles of thunder as Raiden joined his power to the unruly weather.

 

“The rainfall is just as I remember it.” Liu Kang ran his hand over an ancient sculpture, its face cracked and features now unrecognisable.

 

“There has not been a thunderstorm in Earthrealm in many years.” The god returned quietly, “I thought perhaps to make up for some lost time, and put my voice back into the Monsoon.”

 

“I did not know I missed this.” Liu Kang said. He looked up at the skies, and let the rain hit him and sluice through the wrinkles lining his face.

 

Raiden watched him. Liu Kang had been a young man when Raiden first led him to the troubles that would shape the rest of his life – take everything from him, send him to a dark place that would make a mockery of all he had stood for. Their fates had been entwined for some time now, a dark mirror in which the glories and failures of each were echoed in one another’s lives. Raiden’s life had always been a web woven about the lives of mortals, but Liu Kang was different. There was always a balance to be kept – a balance of what to ask of a mortal for the sake of the realm, and the preciousness of the mortal themselves who was a part of that realm ultimately under Raiden’s guardianship.

 

He had always thought he’d overstepped that balance in Liu Kang’s case. He’d asked too much. He’d failed this man. He’d not done enough to keep him from the fate that befell him. Perhaps that guilt had had a role in his own fall as well.

 

Raiden tilted his head and the brim of his hat channelled new rivers onto the mud below. He closed his eyes and the bright lightning that always crackled within them, winked out, leaving behind only gathering gloom. He heard the squelch of mud and the suck of footsteps. He looked up and was surprised to see Liu Kang crouched before him, one knee on the wet earth.

 

“I always wondered if the rainy seasons were full of the tears of the god of thunder,” Liu Kang said. “I’m still not sure if that’s the case, but it shouldn’t be. Our thunder god has given more for this earth than any one person can know. I certainly do not hold him responsible for the terrible things that have happened here. I only hope he does not either.” Liu Kang peered under the brim of Raiden’s hat.

 

Raiden put a hand to his chin, contemplating this and still not yet ready to lift his gaze.

 

When he spoke, it was softly, and still rolled up in thought,

 

“He wishes he could have done more. For one person in particular.”

 

The constant pound of rain filled the air about them and all was awash with filmy silver curtains that broke down into hidden rivers on touching the earth.

 

Liu Kang nodded slightly, he looked down too, and watched as the water washed the old temple stones free of age and dark.

 

“Well…” Liu Kang said at last, “Is it permitted for a mortal to say they forgive a god?”

 

Raiden looked up. Lightning flickered under the brow of his straw hat and sent clay shadows all bluish with new light. Raiden nodded once.

 

Liu Kang gave a small smile filled with warmer things from the years of his youth,

 

“Then I forgive you, old friend.”


	30. Cyrax & Sektor: Mission Report

Cyrax was not looking forward to reporting to the Grandmaster. He’d been been on a joint intelligence gathering mission that had been equal parts time dependent and difficult in its set up. He had been tasked with keeping tabs on a gang who operated on a train in eastern Siberia. He’d sat waiting at a signalling post. He’d only had one task that weekend, which was to note the route the train took after it passed through a mountain tunnel. Sektor had been stationed at the tunnel mouth and reported the train entering the tunnel. Then they’d lost it. Cyrax had waited a full hour before abandoning his signal post to follow the lines back and see if they’d somehow missed a turn off in the track. He’d taken a makeshift torch and searched the tunnel for some time. When he returned to the signalling pst, it was to meet Sektor, unimpressed, and the tracks swept fresh of snow by a train that had passed through whilst no one was present to note its direction.

 

So here he was, dragging his heels slightly as he crossed the open snow scudded courtyard of the Lin Kuei Temple, steeling himself for the report he had to give. Failure. Not a word tolerated in the clan. He drew in a breath. Sharp cold air stung his lungs. He’d never really gotten used to the plummeting Himalayan temperatures. If he’d waited at his signal post. If he’d just held on for another couple of hours. There was no way to spin this to the Grandmaster. It was bad whichever way he reported it. He’d had one simple task. Recruits were given easier missions than this. He pinched the bridge of his nose. The outcome wasn’t going to be pretty. He could feel dread already curling in his stomach. He was so lost in his concern that he walked into someone. He muttered an apology and moved to skirt around them.

 

“Cyrax. Good, I was looking for you.”

 

Cyrax straightened on realising it was Sektor. The Grandmaster’s son had been silent on their return from the mission. No one needed reminding what it was to return home with tidings of failure. Silence was always preferable in such instances.

 

“I was just on my way to give the report.” Cyrax said stiffly, avoiding eye contact with Sektor.

 

“The mission report?” Sektor stood in Cyrax’s way, feet planted, “All done. Come, we must plan the next stage now that this window has passed us by.”

 

Cyrax stopped, face muddled in confusion,

 

“I still have to report, Sektor. The Grandmaster will want to know why-”

 

“I said it’s taken care of. It was a joint mission. We missed the train. I told the Grandmaster as much. Report over. Now come, we have work to do.”

 

Cyrax shook his head,

 

“But I… it was.” He tried to fathom the man before him, always one for following the law of the Lin Kuei to the letter. When Sektor was unforthcoming, Cyrax spelled his confusion out more fully, “It was my mistake. My error. Failure must be owned or the punishment will be twofold, for both-”

 

Sektor stamped snow from his boots impatiently,

 

“Do you trust me that its been taken care of or not?” Irritability flared in his tone and he fixed Cyrax with eyes daring to be questioned.

 

Cyrax hesitated. Someone had to take the blame. If not him, then…

 

“You… Why would you…? The Grandmaster’s approval means the world to you…” Cyrax let his shoulders relax slightly. Something inside him was heaving with relief. He slowly began to follow the other assassin back across the grounds.

 

Sektor shrugged,

 

“The Lin Kuei are one. United. We look after our own.”

 

Cyrax lengthened his stride until he matched Sektor’s pace,

 

“But… It’s not the way of things here. To do… such a thing. To take… the blame…”

 

“Well, who can say what the way of things shall be in the future. The clan leadership shall be mine some day,” Sektor laughed. He stopped when he saw Cyrax’s face still a collage of uncertainty. Sektor slowly his pace a little and let out his breath slowly, “Look. The simple fact is he’s easier on me. Not by much. But enough. He’s disappointed regardless anyway, so what’s a little more to the mix.”

 

Cyrax was stunned. There were many amongst the Lin Kuei who in occasional moments practised fractions of compassion. He had never counted Sektor in that number.

 

“Anyway.” Sektor cracked a cocky smile and whispered in an undertone, “Remember it when I take over this place in glorious bloody coup.” He clearly intended the comment to lighten the mood, but Cyrax did not smile with him, because it was no joke to receive so treasured and unexpected a gift as this.


	31. Kuai Liang & Tomas Vrbada: The Gift

Tomas looked down at his soup. A whole half onion bobbed to the surface, laced with a stray noodle and churning up a cloud of stock and butter. It was a rare thing to get a half onion. He love the sweetness and sharpness brought to the flavour all at once when he crunched it between his teeth. There were so few meals at the temple that allowed one to experience taste. Food was simple and functional and did not need to be enjoyed. But Tomas did enjoy his onion. When this particular soup was cooked, there was a rare chance that one might just get one. And here it was, bobbing to the surface – a small explosion of sensation in a world of severe monotony and ritual.

 

Tomas lovingly dipped his spoon into the soup. A second onion bobbed to the surface. Immediately his elation became suspicion. One onion was a rarity. Two was unheard of. He turned suspicious eyes upon his friend seated next to him. Kuai Liang was focussed on slurping up his own soup. Very focussed.

 

Tomas narrowed his eyes at him. Kuai gave him a puzzled look, while continuing to shovel noodles into his mouth. Tomas looked back at his soup, then at Kuai, then at his soup. Eventually he stopped puzzling the mystery and decided to enjoy the miracle.

 

When Tomas was fully captivated by the mystery before him, Kuai Ling sneaked a glance. He basked in his friend’s joy tenfold more than he would have had he kept the delicacy for himself.


	32. Kuai Liang & Hanzo: Second Tea

Kuai Liang entered the grounds cautiously. He had never visited the rebuilt Shirai Ryu school before. Even setting foot in this country felt like treachery, felt like betraying his heritage, and tempting fate. He was ready for his welcome here to be as hostile as the one Hanzo Hasashi had received in the Lin Kuei Temple not so many years before.

 

He was surprised when his path took him to a new, clean cut wooden gate, gleaming gold in the sunlight and dappled by the shadow of cedar leaves high above. Passing through, he was met by the sight of a woodbuilt dojo, simple and functional, but with a quiet beauty. It perched atop the steep edge of a hill, nestled amid sparse forests and looking down upon stepped terrace rice fields into a valley bellow. The silver of standing water glinted in the valleys and lit them a mismatched patchwork.

 

Kuai stopped. He’d grown up in a severe temple, built in the clandestine reaches of the spiralling Himalayan peaks. When rebuilding the clan, he’d tried to mimic that secretive, recondite sense of imposition that the old temple steeped on him; that feeling like one trod on ancient ground that demanded respect for past traditions. The temple was a place to hone the self into a weapon: it was harsh to make a warrior harsher, cold to make a warrior colder, empty to make a warrior more focussed.

 

The Shirai Ryu school was a place of peace. It was not set apart or above its surroundings, but amidst. It did not strive to be anything, it simply was.

 

“Grandmaster, welcome.”

 

Kuai was startled out of his reverie by the approach of Hanzo Hasashi himself. Kuai raised palm to fist in greeting,

 

“Your school is very beautiful.”

 

“Thank you.” Hanzo led them in silence, not into the dojo but around the back to one of the sparring grounds that looked out over the valley below. A small table had been laid, along with a teapot and two cups. “We did not get to finished last time, so I thought…”

 

Kuai nodded and joined his old enemy in kneeling at the table. The treetops shuffling on the slopes below were ablaze with the fires of autumn, all russet and gold, and darker shades of purple maroon. Kuai could hear a river somewhere singing soft songs to the stones as it fell down the hillside. Kuai was quiet in order to hear all that quiet.

 

“Is the tea to your liking?”

 

Kuai looked up. Hanzo had poured tea for him that was rapidly cooling. He realised there were fractional lines of concern on the man’s face. Hanzo might be a model host, but beneath the layers of propriety, Kuai could see he was eager for this meeting to go well. Kuai could hardly blame him. If relations soured between their clans it could mean decades more of bloodshed between them. Kuai quickly picked up his cup and sampled the tea. Light herbal aromas filled his nose and he was at once filled with warmth and the peace of this place.

 

“It’s good.” Kuai replied. He knew that for this delicate truce to be maintained, conversation should follow a strict acceptable formula, but he was too intrigued by everything around him. “Was the Shirai Ryu school very different when you studied here?”

 

He saw a slight unreadable flicker move over Hanzo’s face, but it left soon after,

 

“It is not so different. The dojo was in the heart of a village then. Life went on about it. Here it is more isolated, but that is for the best.”

 

There were small things in Hanzo’s voice, like allusions to old pains and difficulties.

 

“Isolated?” Kuai said before he could stop himself, “It doesn’t feel isolated to me, not like-…” He paused. Comparing their clans wasn’t a good line of talk to pursue. “I like it here. It feels like it was built to be a home.” Kuai finished.

 

“It was,” Hanzo said softly. “Everyone in the Shirai Ryu arrived at first a little broken. Some of us more than others,” He gave a wry smile. “The dojo was first and foremost to be a place of healing. A place to put ourselves back together.”

 

A quiet drifted between them. It was easy and less full of awkward conventions than earlier.

 

“You could stay a while, if you wished,” Hanzo said. Then he seemed to remember who he was talking to, and a slow pall of horror spread over his face. He hurried to right himself, “I mean, only if it was agreeable to you. I fully understand that of all the places in the world, and of all the people, that this place – that _I –_ would not be the place or company for rest for you. Considering all our history, all I’ve done -”

 

Kuai raised a hand. Hanzo abruptly stopped  in  his outburst.

 

Kuai poured them both more tea from the kettle. He sipped from his cup.

 

“I would like that.” Kuai said, “I’ll stay a few days, if that is no inconvenience.”

 

“No inconvenience at all.” Hanzo said quickly. His shoulders were tense for a few moments. Then Kuai saw them relax. They drank the rest of their tea in silence, and watched the sun fill the valley with its sleep as it sunk in the sky.

 


	33. Bi-Han & Shang Tsung: Last Request

Bi-Han paced a banquet room in an Outworld palace. He’d been much younger when he first encountered other realms. He’d seen so much, that little phased him these days. New realms with strange seas, strange skies, strange people – and yet what bothered him was everything he’d brought with him from home.

 

Footsteps sounded from the far end of his stone chamber. A familiar face warmed his heart, and for a moment all the coldness and cruel sarcasm melted from Bi-Han’s tongue. His brother, Kuai Liang, took a few tentative steps toward him.

 

“Bi-Han, everything ok?” Kuai was cautious, trying not to step on the frayed hem of Bi-Han’s temper. Just as he always was. Except the last time they’d spoken, Kuai had been angry with him – called him proud, reckless, and had gone stony silent when Bi-Han replied with his usual mocking humour. Kuai Liang always stayed hurt when Bi-Han shrugged him off. Not like the apparition before him now.

 

“Stop wearing his face.” Bi-Han turned away from the sight of his brother. For some reason it was difficult to look upon Kuai’s features just then.

 

There was a ruffle and flow, then the voice was smooth as silk, older and more cunning,

 

“One sentence gave me away? I’m getting rusty. Though it’s always difficult when just pulling characters from other’s memories. Seeing people in the flesh – _ah_ – it’s so different. Like being handed the playscript and not just an out-of-context quotation.”

 

Bi-Han turned back and saw now the Outworld shapechanger, Shang Tsung, before him.

 

“Wear his face again and I’ll break all of your noses. Then everyone from here to Netherrealm will know it’s you.”

 

“You truly are irked.” Shang Tsung pulled himself up onto the banquet table. Something crunched underneath him. He pulled out a plate and chicken bone and tossed both aside distastefully. “Did I get him so wrong? He seems so demure from a cursory glance into your mind.”

 

Bi-Han slumped into a decadent ornate dining chair, and lolled his head back against it’s decorative bone rib motif,

 

“He’s pissed at me. No way he’d let me off and go straight back to kind caring Kuai Liang.” He sighed heavily.

 

Shang Tsung’s eyebrows raised,

 

“But you are troubled none-the-less. Am I at least right on that count?”

 

Bi-Han stretched, then folded his arms. He was not one for sharing emotions, but there was little point hiding such things from the Outworld sorcerer.

 

“Perhaps. Nothing the emperor need worry himself over.”

 

“It’s not the emperor who stands before you,” Shang Tsung said simply. It irritated Bi-Han more than his playfulness had. He ground his teeth together. Shang Tsung steepled his hands and pulled his legs up, folding them beneath him. “Troubled by the winds of change in your clan, Sub-Zero?”

 

“I am never troubled by my clan, Sorcerer,” Bi-Han replied mechanically.

 

“Of course not,” Shang Tsung agreed, “the Lin Kuei are fiercely loyal. And you are the greatest among them. No room for doubt. But… if the rumours are to be believed… cyber warriors? Machines? Computers in place of brains?”

 

Bi-Han stiffened. He said nothing, but his brow furrowed and worries ploughed into his face.

 

“So you _are_ troubled,” Shang Tsung said softly.

 

Bi-Han folded his arms more defensively. He kept his stubborn silence.

 

“Well, were you to ask my advice, which of course the great Sub-Zero never would,” Shang Tsung added as Bi-Han’s face darkened, “But _were_ you to – I would tell you to keep your thoughts here on this tournament. It is a harder task than you give it credit for.”

 

“I’m unbeaten in combat,” Bi-Han said emptily. “I don’t care for your petty tournament.”

 

“You care about being automated regardless of whether you win or lose,” Shang Tsung supplied.

 

Bi-Han was silent again.

 

“Well, I understand you distress, but this tournament can be lethal. There won’t be any automation to worry about if you’re dead, Sub-Zero.”

 

There was another silence. But it wasn’t the right kind. It wasn’t cocky like the previous silences had been. Shang Tsung frowned and studied the face before him.

 

“You… don’t care. It is not your own wellbeing you worry for. It is… your brother…”

 

Bi-Han stood up abruptly,

 

“I _said_ to stay out of my head!” he snarled.

 

“Technically you didn’t,” Shang Tsung said mildly, “And in this instance such tricks were not necessary.”

 

Bi-Han simmered down and a blush started on his cheeks. He took back up his pacing and his restless footsteps filled the room once more.

 

“An understandable concern,” Shang Tsung said gently, almost kindly.

 

“The Lin Kuei have no concerns, no worries, no emotions.” Bi-Han’s voice became quieter and quieter. He trailed into silence. After a long moment, he spoke again, “I’ve always looked out for him. There’s so much happening in the clan now… I don’t know if I can…”

 

“… Protect him?” Shang Tsung finished.

 

Bi-Han’s lip twitched slightly. He stopped pacing. He sunk back into his chair. Defeat clung to his shoulders.

 

“I do admit to having pried a little into your thoughts,” Shang Tsung said, “And from what I’ve seen, your brother seems the resilient type. Give him a little credit, he may surprise you.”

 

“I don’t want him to have to surprise me. I want him to be safe.”

 

The candles flickered in the banquet hall, a red wind scoured the harsh Outworld earth beyond the stone window arches. A thin gauze curtain skipped in its ragged breeze.

 

“We all wish those we care for to be safe. But these are a child’s dreams, Bi-Han. And one day we must let them go. No realm is safe. And we cannot control the fate of others. We can only do what we can. And it seems to me you have done enough: suffered enough. It is time to let him live his life. To love is to let go, after all.”

 

“Councilled by the advisor to the Emperor Shao Kahn on love,” Bi-Han laughed bitterly.

 

“What of it? I’ve lived a thousand of your life times, you think I never loved in one of them?”

 

Bi-Han looked up the long banquet table laden with its carcass leftovers. They reminded him of the bodies he left in his wake as he walked away from a successful mission.

 

“I have coming whatever is coming to me. Kuai Liang does not.”

 

Shang Tsung twirled his beard with a finger,

 

“I’m afraid there is little I can do to right the injustices of the world.”

 

A quiet fell between them again.

 

Bi-Han sighed and stood. He walked toward the wing he, Sektor and Cyrax had been given for the duration of the tournament. They were guests here in this barren empty world. Guests serving a tyrant king. Bi-Han paused when he reached the door. He turned back.

 

“There is one thing you could do for me, Sorcerer.”

 

Shang Tsung raised a hand, inviting him to continue.

 

Bi-Han took a moment, then said,

 

 

“Turn into Kuai Liang one more time? And let me see him smile? That always sets my mind at rest.”


	34. Kuai Liang & Bi-Han: Why Did You Do It?

Bi-Han folded his armed and raised his eyebrows.

Kuai became very interested in his toes. He scuffed them against the floor, curling them into the cracks between the flagstones.

“Why did you do it?”

“Do what?” Kuai asked innocently, still not looking up.

There was a long, pregnant pause. Kuai’s eyes slowly roamed to where the shelf lay, a neat crack splintering it in two. Next to it, lying sheathed in a fine black scabbard painted with gold characters, was a sword.

The pause lengthened and Kuai felt the air get colder. He started when he realised what that meant.

“It was an accident,” he supplied.

The room got even colder. Kuai looked up with worried eyes. Bi-Han’s face was dark with anger and his breath came out in plumes in the frigid air.

“It… wasn’t an accident?” Kuai ventured. His brother remained cold and unmoving. Kuai hesitantly continued, “I wanted… to use the sword. To be like you. And… I wanted to see if I could… cut the wood.” He looked down at the splinters on the floor, “The shelf…, I mean.” He hung his head.

Silence. It was so cold Kuai had trouble telling if his brother was making it colder still. He decided his best option was to remain contrite. He stared holes into the floor.

Bi-Han leant down and picked up the two pieces of wood. He tossed one in the air and caught it. Kuai’s eyes flicked up to watch him.

“A good clean cut,” Bi-Han remarked. Hope leapt into Kuai’s eyes. “Next time keep your angle straight. I don’t give a damn about shelves, but no brother of mine is going to have wonky swordsmanship, understood?”

Kuai nodded vigorously, face glowing with adoration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chinese translation available: [你可以在这里用中文阅读](http://yonghu6036188632.lofter.com/post/1e70e512_12e22be5c)


	35. Kuai Liang & Tomas Vrbada: I've Been Waiting For This Day For A Long Time

There was soft blue light dancing like licking flames along his body. He turned his arms slowly, admiring the way his hands moved and his fingers strummed the air. Shadows dappled and slid across his bare skin, bringing the sharp features of his face into relief. His hair moved about his face, somehow more vibrant than Kuai could ever have imagined. It was full, luxurious, a rich brown, and his eyes a warm tropical green. Someone had brought the charcoal sketch of Tomas Vrbada into full colour. Kuai wondered how he could never have seen it before. Now that Tomas was before him, he realised this was the first time he was truly seeing him _alive._

“You… - You’re…-” It was not often that words failed the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei.

Raiden let his hands fall, and the jinsei subsided once more into a cool pool of shifting light. He gave a small smile and stepped out beyond the doorway, allowing this reunion a little more privacy.

“You’re _alive,_ ” Kuai breathed. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so beautiful before. His friend stepped down onto the cold stone.

“Hello, Kuai Liang,” Tomas sounded a little shy, like this was a first meeting and not old childhood friends who’d found each other again.

“You’re… so… so different,” Kuai said a little lamely. All his words and sense had vanished, and he found himself only able to say small, stunted, obvious things. His throat was tight and his chest was pounding. He reached out a tentative hand to touch Tomas’s arm, as if afraid this was all a mirage that that might shatter at any moment.

“And you too. Your clothes. They’re the robes of a Grandmaster. And your _face._ Is that a beard?”

Kuai retracted his hand and brought it to his chin,

“You don’t like it? I can get rid of it-”

Tomas laughed and pulled Kuai’s hand away so that he could see his face,

“No, it’s a good look.”

“Oh,” Kuai said. He started when he realised Tomas’s hand was still on his. He blushed but didn’t pull away. Instead he chanced a look up into Tomas’s eyes. His friend was watching him, reading his reaction. That only made Kuai blush more.

“When Raiden said this was possible – when he said he could bring you back, I never dreamed it would be like this. That he could heal you of… everything else. I planned out so many things to say to you, but I- I can’t really remember any of it now,” Kuai gave a nervous laugh. “Everything’s just so strange, so unexpected. You’ve been gone so long, and even though I thought of you every day I-”

Tomas rested a single finger on Kuai’s lips, quieting him. Kuai found his breath shaky against the pad of Tomas’s finger.

“Hush now,” Tomas’s voice was soft, “I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time, so let me do the talking.”

Tomas leant in and replaced his finger with his lips, slipping his tongue into Kuai’s mouth. Kuai’s eyes widened, but he decided Tomas’s conversation was going better than his own attempt had. He let his eyes flutter shut and he drew Tomas into his embrace.


End file.
